


Like there's no tomorrow (In Rhythm and Sorrow)

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Bad Cooking, Cooking, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Humor, Italy, Kissing, Reminiscing, Romance, Second Time, Sexual Humor, Sexy Times, Tantric Sex, Vacation, lots of times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 14:45:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3176401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skoulsonfest2k15 - Day 3: Pieces to a puzzle', power protocols, secret rooms in the Playground, family issues, Coulson cooks - they're all here!  A very tasteful Skoulson sex/flirt romp.</p><p>Song from the title of the Sugarcubes Song F@#$%ing in Rhythm and Sorrow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like there's no tomorrow (In Rhythm and Sorrow)

Everything is out on the counter, he's making another check that he's got everything he needs when he hears her voice.

" _Hi_."

Her fingers are just at the corner, wrapped around its edge, her eye peeking at him just past.

He tries to smile, or just do anything. His hands freeze for a moment and he forgets and wipes them on his suit pants.

"Making dinner," he manages to mutter out, as she comes around the corner wearing a short satin robe.

His hand makes for the counter to lean against it and he misses slightly, catching himself.

It sends off a chain reaction as he tries to keep the pan, then the chopping board, then the knife, then the cup of broth from falling off the counter to the floor.

Somehow, he manages it and looks up at her relieved, as she starts to laugh.

"Do you need help?" she asks, now sympathetically, as time starts to move forward normally again.

"No, I've got it," he said, glancing up at her as she walked toward him and hugged him from behind.

"Mmm," she said, squeezing him tightly. "I've been looking forward to this weekend."

"Me too," he replied, eyeing the smooth expanse of her leg escaping from the bottom of the robe.

"That new?" he asks, resorting things on the counter.

"What?" she says, leaning to the side so she can look at him over his shoulder.

Her stick straight hair brushes against his forearm and he stills his hand with the knife in it.

"You can open a bottle of wine," he suggests.

She walks to the drawer and then begins fishing around in it for a wine opener.

He turns back for a moment to look at her, realizing how nervous he is about all of this.

How quickly it was moving.

  
***

Two weeks ago, he'd found her sitting in Lola, after dark, in the driver's seat with her hands on the wheel.

They'd dealt with her father, and it had unsettled her so much she hadn't said a word since. She'd just internalized everything.

He wasn't sure what to do with that, with a girl like Skye that always spoke her mind.

It had unsettled _him_.

As he'd quietly gotten into the passenger seat next to her, she started crying, holding onto the wheel.

There was nothing that he could say that would change the fact that her father was the man he was, that she was somehow connected to him now. At least he could do this.

Taking her in his arms, he hugged her. Sat there with her, silently, her head tucked under his chin, and her eyes dampening his shirt.

"Thanks," she said, pulling back, staring up at him.

He thought about the last time they had hugged like this. It was over her father. Hunter had interrupted.

Hunter wasn't here now.

"I'm sorry," he said, touching her face. "That you didn't get the father you deserved."

"Guess we both missed out," she said, looking down at her hands, her voice sounding hollow and stuffy at the same time.

"We still have each other, though," he said. And then realized what he had said.

Her eyes flashed up to his, and he was already trying to move away casually, settle back against the seat.

Touching the wheel again, she licked her lower lip then said, "You really should fix Lola up."

The way she would so easily change tracks made him sigh with relief, and he drew his knee up, leaning towards her.

"Where would you take her?" he asked wistfully.

"Somewhere quiet," she said. "Maybe the mountains? With a nice cabin and a view with a lake."

He took in a deep breath, picturing it in his mind. Wishing he could give her that.

"And you would be there," she said.

His eyes widened.

"I want you there, too."

  
***

They had kissed. A lot.

He couldn't remember the last time when he'd kissed someone like that. Audrey, yes, and as wonderful as it was, very romantic and thought out; it was not this gorgeous, generous, chaos.

She could stir up those kinds of feelings in him very easily. It's why he'd tried so hard to keep them under control. He didn't want that to spill over onto her, on the team, his work.

He couldn't have imagined she felt the same.

Chasing her down into the temple. He didn't even think about her having to live with that. Blaming herself for dooming them both before whatever happened down there changed everything.

May had certainly let him have it once things calmed down, and he was sure Skye resented him for it in more ways than one, with her withdrawing silences. For putting her there to begin with, and for throwing away his own life.

"Open," Skye said, to the sound of a pop, shaking him out of his thoughts. "What's with the face?" she asked, moving to the cabinet and taking out two wine glasses.

"You keep breaking my concentration," he said, chopping the parsley up and moving it to the side of the cutting board.

"I can finish getting dressed for dinner," she said, leaning against the counter, stretching out her legs. "If I'm too much of a distraction."

"I'm here because you're too much of a distraction," he said, putting down the knife and sliding her in front of him, arms about her waist.

She leans up to kiss him and just like that, everything else is pushed out of his mind.

His arm slides the cutting board to the side and pulls her up on top of the counter, their mouths connected, as he settles between her legs and then tugs her hips closer against him, as she moans her approval, her hands on his jaw, thumb widening his lips so she can slide her tongue against his.

" _Skye_."

He wants to say it again, but he can't, she's sucking on his tongue. He puts his palms flat against the counter and works his hips against her, as she gasps into his mouth.

Then he hears the beep. It distracts him for just a moment, but he keeps the momentum. And then again.

"Dammit," he says, pulling away from her and going for the oven mitt to pull the baking tin out from inside.

It's hot and he puts it down quickly on the surface.

"Didn't want to burn those," he says. He was making enough for the whole weekend.

Looking back to her sitting on the counter, she's amused, her legs crossed.

"I think maybe I'm too much of a distraction," she says, hopping down off the counter. "And I'm starving, so..."

He takes the mitt off and gives her a kiss on the side of her mouth.

"Maybe just stay on the other side of the counter until the food's done?" he smirks.

"Alright," she says, raising an eyebrow and taking her wine glass then going to sit in one of the counter chairs across from him.

Taking in a deep breath, he looks over everything and then takes the brown wrapper and starts to open it.

"You look pretty sexy when you cook," she said. He watched her eyes on his rolled up sleeves.

"You've seen me dressed like this at least a dozen times," he said. He was just wearing a button down.

"Yup," she said, taking a sip. "Still sexy."

He stifles a laugh at that. The idea that she's found him sexy this whole time is a bit baffling.

They have flirted. He had to openly admit to that one fairly early on. But, they both share a taste for clever prodding and he just chalked it up to that in common, not that she might actually have wanted...

"Hey, you might need that," she said, pointing down at his hand, as he broke his gaze from her.

The knife was near the tip of his pointing finger.

"I'd agree," he said.

He had agreed to a lot of things.

  
***

  
"I mean it," she said, when he had him pinned against some of the boxes in one of the hidden vaults. "I want to get away with you."

"And do what?" he asked, teasingly, as she pulled on the lapels of his suit and kissed him.

"You can cook me dinner," she said, tugging at his lower lip. She seemed to do that a lot when they kissed. Not that he minded that she found a part of him she liked. "How you did for Simmons."

"You would've cooked dinner for her, too, if you'd seen that fridge," he answered, trying to balance himself with his hands against the boxes.

"You're probably right," she said, backing away and tugging at his tie. "Except now, I'm jealous."

"Okay. Dinner it is," he said, pulling her towards him again by her belt. "And then what?"

"And then," she said, loosening the knot of his tie a little. "I want to see just how good your profiling skills are."

"Just to be clear, you're talking about..."

"Yes," she said, whispering into his ear. "I'll make sure you know _every time_ you get it right."

She let go of the tie and turned around to walk out.

"But we have this perfectly nice base in the meantime," he said, flushed, and standing up to gesture around the dusty room filled with boxes.

"Do you want to cook me dinner in front of the team?" she asked, crossing her arms. "Do it on the old SSR files?"

"Alright," he said. "We have a window coming up. I have travel plans, we can sneak it in then."

"Sneak," she said. "You're enjoying that part of it, aren't you?"

"Aren't you?" he asked.

"I'd like to be able to walk around naked without fear Hunter might have a comment."

"So, yes," he answered back quickly. "In a week. I can possibly even move my schedule up, if that works for..."

"See you in the office, Phil," she said, opening the door and walking out.

  
***

  
"Can I eat one of those rolls while you cook?" she asked.

"Yeah, of course," he said, slicing across the chicken carefully making neat paillards.

She walked back around the counter, giving him a very big smile when he stopped what he was doing to stare at her legs again.

"We know what you like," she said with a grin, loosening one of the rolls of out the pan.

"There's some butter on the counter," he said, nodding in its general direction.

"You mean, you don't want to butter my roll, sir?" she asked, pulling the bread apart, the warm air wafting up from it.

"Yes, I _want_ to," he said, looking down at his chicken-covered hands. "Just not like this."

She started laughing and walked around him and opened the butter, spreading a slice on the hot bread.

"This is good," she said, with her mouth full. "You like to bake?"

"I used to when my mom was working. When it was just the two of us," he said, washing his hands under the sink. "She worked, I cooked."

"Sounds like you were a very good boy," she said, threading her arms through his, as he finished washing his hands.

"I can be," he said, over his shoulder, as she kissed the side of his neck and when she pushed them both up against the edge of the sink, he moaned loudly.

"Let's go upstairs," he breathed. "We can eat after."

"I'd rather eliminate any other distractions," she said, sliding her hands down his sides. "If you don't mind."

He leaned against the counter and took a few deep breaths.

"Besides," she said, picking up her wine glass, you went to all this trouble already."

"Was torture included in your weekends plans?" he asked, sounding a little petulant.

"Just put it all the fridge," she shrugged. "We can go back into town and eat there. Make the rest tomorrow."

While he was happy she we ready to concede, he knew he could do this. He knew it meant something to her. And he'd gotten this far.

"I've got this," he said.

"Then I'm going upstairs to finish getting ready," she said.

He watched her walk away and then set himself on the task at hand.

What kind of secret agent can't make a beautiful woman dinner, anyway?

He went to fill up the pot with water and boil the pasta.

  
***

"That place looks nice," she said, eyeing a tiny cafe with people outside having coffee and wine as they stopped in the small mountain village.

He had a meeting in Venice on Monday. It worked.

"I'm making you dinner tonight," he said, taking her hand as they walked into the butcher shop.

He walked up to the counter and placed his order in very rudimentary, but correct, Italian, and watched her look over the shop and peer out of the window towards the restaurant across the street.

As they exchanged greetings with the butcher, they headed to the outdoor stalls to get the rest of the ingredients.

"Second trip to Italy," she said, looking around at everything, smiling.

They had talked about the fact that it was Italy, what had happened on her last visit, Quinn shooting her and almost dying. But she had completely brushed off the association and said she looked forward to getting to see things from a different perspective.

Skye liked to give things a second chance. Like him.

He knew he was in love with her. He'd had some crazy affinity for her from almost the moment he'd met her. Listening to her Rising Tide podcasts had helped with that a little.

She was this unknown quantity in a time in his life when he was asking a lot of questions. And everything that she said and did made so much sense to him. It was almost like she had carried him along with her.

Now he wanted to return the favor. In whatever way she would let him.

"Fresh pasta," he said, showing it to her and then putting it in the bag. "Makes all the difference."

"This is so exciting," she said, hugging against his side. "I can't believe I get to be alone with you."

"We're alone all the time," he said, as they walked through the market.

"One-on-one," she said. "If you know what I mean."

He bit his lip as he looked down at her curiously, and she wiggled her eyebrows in reply.

"That time when I asked you to go into Vault D...?" he said, beginning to connect the dots.

"Yes, it was a hint."

  
***

Skye appeared again, looking like something out of a dream in a simple black dress and her hair pulled back. Wearing one of her necklaces that she hadn't worn in awhile, maybe even one she had on when they first met.

He'd set the table and put a few candles on.

When she stopped in front of him, she smiled and he leaned forward and kissed her slowly, drawing her in close to him, running his hands over her bare arms.

"You look beautiful," he said.

She blushed a little, staring up through her lashes into his blue eyes. "Another part of you I love," she said.

His heart went soft and he took her hands and then brought them up to his mouth, kissing her knuckles.

"Shall we?"

He pulled out a chair for her and she sat down as he started to serve out the pasta and then the chicken, cooked perfectly, then.

Stopping he looked down at the table, then gave a heavy sigh.

"I didn't make the sauce," he said with a grumble.

"What?" she asked.

He walked away towards the kitchen and opened the pantry to take out the perfect tomatoes they'd selected earlier that day in the market.

"I left off the sauce," he said, taking the tomatoes and tossing them on the counter.

"Coulson," she said, getting up out of her chair and walking over to him.

"I just wanted it to be perfect, that's all," he said, shrugging at the unfairness of it.

" _Phil_ ," she said, watching him come apart a little.

"I can make a sauce, really quickly," he said, going to get a pan out of the cabinet. "Ten minutes, tops."

"No, we're going out," she said, putting her hand on his.

"I've already screwed it up," he said, standing up and shutting the cabinet.

"I'll let you find other ways to make up for it," she said.

He grabbed his jacket off the counter and the keys and headed towards the door.

  
***

"I _did_ distract you," she said, tipping back her glass and looking across the bistro table at him.

"Absolutely," he said, reaching under the table when her shoe pressed up against his crotch.

She smiled and tried to pull it away, but he held on, then slid her shoe off and let it drop to the ground before putting his hands back on the table.

"As you were."

She laughed, scandalized, and then bit her lower lip as she watched his hands tighten on the edge of the table.

"We _are_ getting this to go," he said, laughing quietly.

"Is that what you want?" she asked, looking at him curiously.

He'd felt really anxious before. Now, it was something else.

"I'd like to eat some fresh pasta for dinner," he said, picking up his wine glass, swirling it. "And then have you for dessert," he added, taking a drink, looking over at her from above the rim.

Her expression settled from something flirtatious and silly into something less readable, but it intrigued him, and he found himself leaning forward.

"This place," she said, glancing around. "It's funny, it reminds me of the motel. After you rescued me," she said.

"This place, or this moment?" he asked, taking a piece of bread from the basket.

"Why didn't you?" she asked a little later, holding his eyes.

He felt her toes pressing against the inside of his thigh.

"I wanted to," he admitted.

"But you didn't," she said.

"I found out about Project: TAHITI later that night," he said. "Kind of threw me for a loop. I shut down."

"Would you have? If that had never happened."

"I don't know," he smirked. "I didn't want to screw it up."

"Is this going to screw it up?" she asked, leaning forward and pulling her feet under her again.

"At one point, I would've said yes," he said. "Now, I'm not going to ask myself that question."

He tooks his eyes off her for one moment as the waiter approached with their plates.

"To go," he said pulling out his wallet, nodding. "Pastas a portar via."

The waiter went into a spin and headed back to the kitchen as he looked back at her.

"The one thing I'm certain about is what I feel for you."

  
***

"You were wearing this necklace the first time we met," he said, looking at the round charm in between her hands.

"I was," she said, as he swept the hair off her bare back and pressed his lips where his fingers had been.

They were relaxing for a moment, lying on the bed together with the sheets tossed off around them and clothing arranged in various places across the floor.

There were two half-eaten to-go containers with pasta precariously set on the table nearby.

A breeze drifted in with the night air through the open window in the second story of the rental. She could see the moonlight hitting on the lake in the distance.

"This place is incredible," she said, turning towards him to lay on her back, running her hands over his shoulder, touching his scar again, with the same reverent fascination she had earlier.

She had told him it was like her scars, how those things connected them. The way they fit together, even from the very beginning.

He'd never looked at his death that way. But that was always how she saw things.

"Did I make up for blowing dinner yet?" he asked, touching her collarbone, then turning her head with his fingers to kiss the spot under her ear that she favored.

"No," she said, sighing. He slid his hand down her hip feeling her breasts rise and fall against his chest. "You have a long night ahead of you, Phil."

He raised his eyebrows. "I can keep up. But can you?"

She slid out from under him, pushing him away slightly, then watched his curious expression before shoving him back down on the bed and sitting down across his waist.

"Just relax, sir," she said, starting to massage his shoulders. "You can do this."

He hummed and buried his face into a nearby pillow.

"I'd rather you not call me 'sir'," he said, voice muffled as he turned his head to the side. "Anything else. Phil, A.C...."

She rubbed her way up his neck, scratching her nails at the base. He shivered.

"D.C.?" she smiled. He could hear it in her voice.

"No, I don't want to be the Director of anything here. No," he insisted, lifting a hand to wave the idea away.

"I noticed," she said, sitting back and smacking him on the ass.

He hugged the pillow and groaned, then twisted underneath her until she was settled on top of him.

"That's better," he said, looking up as she smoothed out his hair. "What a sight you are."

"I'd like to hear all about it," she said, rocking her hips against him, already half-hard again.

"You look like someone just went down on you," he said, rather pleased with himself, sliding his hands down her chest, until they stopped at her hips, helping her movements along.

"Someone did," she said, her breath hitched, running her hands over her breasts as he gripped her hips and then started to move underneath her. "And then they fucked me, because I got impatient."

"I didn't mind," he said, pulling her down on top of him to kiss her. "First times and all," he added, pressing his tongue into her mouth.

He was a fast learner. He tightened his hand in her hair while they kissed as she gave a series of pitched groans against him.

"It was nice," she said, her hand circling his cock, feeling him getting harder. "I liked it. All of it."

"And you like being on top," he said, as she sat up and ran her fingers along his chin. She did that a lot, too.

Raising herself, she positioned her hips just so, and then lowered herself down him as he slowly relaxed into the pillow.

"I'm not the only one," she said, sweeping her hips back and forward. As his lips parted, he felt her fingers on them and kissed them, sucking one into his mouth.

"I like the way you look when you come, Phil," she said. "Those eyes of yours."

"Come here," he said, pulling her legs towards him as he sat up.

"Oh," she said, putting her arms around his neck, relaxing against him. "That's pretty much all of you."

"Yeah," he said, running his hand across her back. "We have all night, right?" he said, like he was asking permission.

"Is this the part where you show me something I've never seen before?"

"I'm hopeful."

  
***

"Breakfast," he said, sitting down next to her on the bed.

She stirred next to him and rubbed her face, propping herself up with one arm.

"I know you like coffee with cream, how do poached eggs with fruit sound?"

"Oh, you cooked for me," she said, touching his face. "And you're awake _so early_."

"It's not that early," he said. "And, I feel great!"

"Come back to bed," she said, reaching for him. "I want morning sex."

"I was kind of thinking breakfast and then hiking and sweaty after-hiking sex with a shower involved."

"That sounds pretty good, too," she said, mulling it over. "Alright."

She tossed the sheets aside and went to the bathroom and drew on her robe, putting her hair up in a bun on top of her head.

Making her way downstairs, she went immediately for the cup of coffee and looked at flowers set out on the table.

"A.C.," she said, touching them with a smile.

"Good morning," he said, bending over to kiss her neck.

"You didn't screw it up at all, you know," she said, looking at the spread. "It was all meant to happen this way."

"I think you're right," he said.

"Really?" she asked, as he untied the front of her robe.

"About the morning sex," he said, taking her coffee from her and setting it on the counter.


End file.
